Wednesday, August 12, 2015
Summer Paintings & Joy of Old Trucks
August rolls into town with her dusty suitcases and a hint of fall in the air today: while it's hot still, there's that inevitable turning of time, the changing light, the coolness of morning when hummingbirds dance. It's the time of butterflies, the sense of loss, the poignant gathering of memory. I remember red crisp apples bending branches low over the summer garden, the bright yellow buses that will come soon: how it all fleets by in an instant. Today, I take the old beater truck that loving friends gave me to be my 'art truck' after I had so much trouble with keeping the old VW alive one more year. Windows down, peace sign swinging, zebra-striped floor mats trimmed in hot pink, the truck and I drove along winding roads with a cathedral of trees, eyes of blue sky peeking through. Over to leafy-green historic Flat Rock we went, an August breeze running her fingers through my hair. Watching all these things, feeling them, all comes into what I'm painting. I just absorb it all, along with the kindness of others. Then go to work, brush in hand.
"Artists don't get down to work until the pain of working is exceeded by the pain of not working." ~ Stephen DeStaebler (sculptor)